


Chain Reaction

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1995-07-30
Updated: 1995-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From beginning to bitter end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's for Dessert?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the printed zine "No Holds Barred 11." Thanks to Kenna, Gayle, and Tashery for feedback and encouragement.

Sonny Steelgrave swept into the room, bubbling with energy.

"Vinnie," he called. "You ready? Okay, let's go!" He paused at the bar, his fingers tapping out a drum riff which ended abruptly as Vinnie stepped out of the bedroom carrying his shirt and shoes.

"Hey, what's this? You're not even dressed yet."

Vinnie turned away from Sonny's disapproving look and sat down on the sofa.

"I don't think this is such a hot idea," he said, slipping his feet into his shoes.

"Why not? Your mamma likes me. I told you I was good with mothers," Sonny said airily, rapping his ring on the side of the bar.

"Yeah, well, it's not just gonna be my mother. My brother's gonna be there, too."

"So? What, am I Jewish now or something? I can't talk to priests?" Sonny leaned against the bar, crossed his arms and gave Vinnie a calculating stare. "If I didn't know better," he said in a low, disgusted voice, "I'd think you were ashamed of me."

Vinnie finished buttoning his shirt, stood, straightening up to his full height, and looked at Sonny squarely. "But you know better," he stated confidently.

Sonny held his gaze for several seconds, then turned and headed for the door, diffusing the tension. "Yeah, yeah. So what's the matter then?"

"I dunno," Vinnie said slowly, reluctantly following Sonny out of the room, wishing he could think of a tactful way to talk Sonny out of this dinner engagement. "You know what it's like with family. My ma's not exactly happy with her son being a jailbird and all. And Pete's pretty disapproving of this lifestyle. It's kinda hard going back there, y'know. Sometimes I think it'd be better not to visit at all."

Sonny stopped in mid-stride and swiveled around to face him. "Don't talk like that," he said. "They're your family, man. Don't talk like that about your family. You cut yourself off from them, you cut yourself off from me. Then you're nowhere. Yeah?"

Vinnie exhaled the breath Sonny's sudden outburst had caught in his lungs. Sonny wasn't going to be talked out of this.

"Yeah," he agreed.

Sonny relaxed. "Good. C'mon. I do not wanna be late for your mamma's home cooking."

\-----

Vinnie drove, navigating around road construction and one- way streets into the heart of Brooklyn and the old neighborhood. Sonny was in a jovial mood.

"Your mamma a good cook?" he asked.

Vinnie's eyes were on the rearview mirror. "Yeah," he replied distractedly, suddenly turning down the wrong street.

"Yeah," repeated Sonny with a sigh. "She's Italian, man. She's a good cook." His eyes were darting from window to window. "Where're you going, Vinnie? This ain't your neighborhood."

Vinnie nodded at the rearview. "We got company."

Sonny checked the passenger-side outer mirror and cursed under his breath.

"Patrice," he snarled. He pointed to the next corner. "Pull up. Let's hear what these goons have gotta say."

Vinnie pulled over to the curb and the black Caprice glided up next to them. Vinnie recognized Simonetti in the passenger seat and rolled down his window.

"Mr. Patrice sends his greetings. He hopes you weren't planning to visit his domain without also visiting him."

Vinnie heard Sonny mutter, sotto voce, "'Domain,' for fuck's sake!" but when he glanced over Sonny was all artificial smiles and cold courtesy.

"You can tell Mr. Patrice this is just a social visit. Nothing to concern him," Sonny said, his eyes taking on a lethal, let-them-try-anything glint.

Simonetti smirked and held out a folded piece of paper. "Everything concerns him."

Sonny nodded for Vinnie to take the paper, which he did and handed to Sonny. Sonny read it, unsmiling. At last he said, "Okay. Tell Mr. Patrice we'll be there at eleven."

Simonetti gave a curt nod and the Caprice sped off. Vinnie pulled away from the curb just as Sonny pounded the dashboard with his fist.

"Patrice, man! Patrice!" he exploded. "Who the hell does he think he is?! I can't go visit someone's family in Brooklyn without his say?!"

He took a deep breath and sat back, still quietly fuming. Vinnie made another turn and glanced at him warily.

"Patrice," Sonny muttered as if he were saying some awful Sicilian curse. "That man is this close to getting his throat slit."

Vinnie drove on, unable to think of anything to say, his mind frantically working on: why was Patrice pushing Sonny so hard? What was going to happen if he pushed too hard? He already knew how Patrice knew where they were going: Sid Royce had known, and telling something to Sid was just as good as whispering it into Pat-the-Cat's ear.

Sonny's voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Where are we going? You're almost back to Atlantic Avenue. You're going in the wrong direction."

"Yeah, well, I thought that after that little run-in it might be better if we went home."

Sonny's eyes flew to the rearview. "Why? They still following us?"

"No, but--"

"So what's the problem? Come on, Vinnie, we're late as it is. I don't want to keep your mother waiting. It's impolite."

Sonny was almost back to his earlier good humor, but not quite. Being tailed by Pat-the-Cat's men and summoned to a 'business meeting' had put a damper on his high spirits.

"I just thought, you know, after that..." Vinnie trailed off. He couldn't complete the thought: _I don't want you sitting in my mother's house planning how to kill Patrice while my family sits there and wait for me to slap the cuffs on your wrists and admit I'm a Fed._ He steered the car back in the right direction.

"It's all right, Vinnie," Sonny said quietly. "I'm not gonna talk about gutting the Cat to your mamma and Father Terranova."

Jolted by this uncannily accurate guess at his thoughts Vinnie looked over to see Sonny smiling pleasantly. Sonny laughed.

"Let's go, man. I can't wait to taste that homemade cannolli!"

\-----

Pete answered the door and showed Sonny and Vinnie to the dining area. Carlotta Terranova was busy in the kitchen, from which wafted the spicy aroma of her special tomato sauce. Sonny sniffed the air and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, man." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Pete glanced over at Vinnie. "I thought you said you could talk him out of this," he whispered.

Vinnie shrugged. "He was set on it, Pete. I tried, but what could I say? He gets kinda sensitive if it seems like I don't want him around my friends and family."

"_Sensitive?!_ Oh, Vince, I don't believe I'm hearing this." Pete shook his head. With a sigh he picked up a napkin and started folding it. Vinnie joined him. He wanted to get this dinner over with as quickly and as uneventfully as possible. He'd hated introducing Sonny to his mother, and he hated bringing Sonny to his family home. In many ways, he liked Sonny, liked him more than he should, but the man was still a gangster.

"I thought you were gonna talk Ma out of it," Vinnie pointed out.

Pete looked sheepish. "I tried, but you know how she is. I think this is a stupid and potentially dangerous situation, but she had to have her own way."

Vinnie grinned despite his unease. "That's our ma."

\-----

In the kitchen, Sonny greeted Carlotta with a brief hug and a kiss of her hand. He snooped around the counter a bit, taking inventory of the ingredients scattered around, and finally stopped at the stove. He peered into the vat of tomato sauce and inhaled deeply.

"You need any help, Mrs. Terranova?" he asked, picking up the wooden spoon on the pretense of stirring the sauce.

Carlotta slapped the spoon out of his hand.

"Mr. Steelgrave, I've been cooking for my family for fifty years," she said haughtily. "I don't need your help. And you don't get to taste the sauce until dinner is served," she added.

Sonny grinned. "That Terranova stubbornness," he sighed. Carlotta shooed him from the kitchen and over to the dining area where Pete and Vinnie were halfheartedly setting out the plates.

"Just have a seat here, Mr. Steelgrave. I'll bring the dinner out in a few minutes," she assured him, motioning for him to sit at the head of the table.

The meal progressed in a more or less relaxed manner. Sonny was practically oozing with Steelgrave charm, chatting with Carlotta about Sicily, family, any neutral subject he could think of. Carlotta was polite and pleasant, and even Pete was making an effort, only occasionally sliding into thinly veiled sarcasm. But Vinnie remained sullen, unnerved by the sick surreality of it all: a nice, cozy dinner at home with a murdering mafia kingpin. It disturbed him how easily Sonny fit into this world of homemade dinners, family priests, and open affection. He forced himself to ignore his misgivings, knowing Sonny's eagle eye would spot his gloominess and he'd be questioned about it later.

The first tense moment came when Pete insisted on discoursing on how the infiltration of drugs was destroying the neighborhood. He went so far as to say he hoped God would have mercy on the souls of those who would profit from the suffering of children, when Vinnie kicked him lightly under the table. Sonny narrowed his eyes at Pete, but did not rise to the bait, and Carlotta steered the conversation to a safer topic.

The other tense moment came when Sonny suddenly asked Vince, "How's your Uncle Mike?"

Carlotta, Pete and Vinnie all froze, Carlotta and Pete staring at Vinnie. Sonny frowned slightly and Vinnie quickly came up with a response.

"I dunno, Sonny. Haven't heard from him in a while."

Carlotta turned to Sonny and smiled shyly. "Mr. Steelgrave, Vinnie's Uncle Mike is never mentioned in this house. I hope you won't think it rude of me to ask you to talk of other matters."

Sonny seemed to understand. He patted Carlotta's hand.

"Like that, is it? Sorry, Carlotta."

Pete jumped in with. "Isn't it time for dessert?" and the rest of evening went smoothly. Sonny was embarrassingly laudatory about the "homemade" cannolli (purchased from Mazzola's) and Carlotta nodded her head, pretending to be the proud baker. When the dinner was over, Vinnie breathed a sigh of relief. No one had slipped, Sonny had been on his best behavior, now they could go back to A.C. and leave his family in peace. Then he remembered the night was far from over. They still had a date with Pat-the-Cat, and he'd had no chance to call Frank.

\-----

They drove to the rendezvous point, somewhere in the Bronx, in virtual silence. Sonny's mood was getting blacker by the second and Vinnie wasn't surprised when Sonny opened the glove compartment, pulled out a gun, checked it, and shoved it into his jacket.

"You got your piece?" Sonny asked.

"We were only going to my ma's house," Vinnie pointed out. Sonny clicked his tongue in disapproval and reached under the front seat. He extracted another gun and handed it to Vinnie.

"It's a good thing I always come prepared."

\-----

Following Sonny's directions, Vinnie drove up a dark, deserted hill onto a bumpy gravel road. This was no part of the Bronx he'd ever been in. At last Sonny told him to park. He stopped the car and peered out into the circle of gravel and shrubbery illuminated by the headlights.

"What is this place, Sonny?"

"A cemetery."

This was gonna be some meeting. A cemetery at night, with Pat-the-Cat curled up nearby waiting for them. Vinnie switched off the headlights and got out of the car.

Sonny was standing next to the hood ornament, looking around. "The church is up there," he said, pointing off to the left.

"You know this place?"

Sonny smiled wistfully. "Yeah, I know this place. This was the big make-out spot when we were kids." He started walking. "I came up here with Patricia Delvecchio when I was sixteen. Ooh man."

The gravel ended abruptly and Vinnie followed Sonny through the graveyard, the tombstones clearly outlined in the bright moonlight. Sonny suddenly stopped, bent down to examine a tombstone, then headed off quickly in another direction. Vinnie followed dutifully.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he caught up. Sonny was standing at the edge of the graveyard. He pointed to an embankment partially surrounded by trees, some hundred yards away.

"Rachel Rosenstein. Mmpf. Over there's where I made Rachel Rosenstein one very happy lady."

Vinnie relaxed a little. "'Rachel Rosenstein?'" he pressed.

Sonny turned and shrugged. "Hey, a man's gotta broaden his horizons now and then, right?" He headed back through the graveyard, occasionally stopping to utter some girl's name with soft reverence. Vinnie wondered when the litany of Sonny Steelgrave teenage conquests would end, when they reached the church and Sonny's romp down memory lane came to a complete halt. Sonny gazed resentfully at the big, wooden doors, squared his shoulders, and made his way up the steps.

"Pat!" he greeted with false bonhomie as he burst through the double doors. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Sonny strode down the aisle, Vinnie at his shoulder. Patrice was perched on the altar, immaculately dressed as always. Around him hovered Simonetti, Sweeney and some other goons. The church was splattered with oddly-shaped shadows that flickered with the candlelight. Vinnie found himself repulsed by Patrice's blasphemous use of the church as meeting ground for his unholy dealings.

"Sonny. Vincenzo." Patrice's cold eyes traveled from one to the other and back. Vinnie nodded in acknowledgment and Sonny took a seat in the first pew.

"So, Paul, what's on your mind?"

"I'm disappointed in you, Salvatore."

The false smile Sonny had adopted faded from view.

"Why's that?"

"You came into Brooklyn, and weren't planning to come see me? You might have hurt my feelings." Patrice smirked.

"Hey, it was just a social call. We paid Vinnie's mom a little visit. Nothing to do with business."

"I'm glad to hear it." Patrice's gaze shifted to Vinnie. "Nice visit?"

"Great," replied Vinnie gruffly.

"Your mother keeping well, Vincenzo? Did she see the specialist I sent?"

Vinnie glanced quickly at Sonny, who was staring at them both in shocked dismay. "What specialist?" Sonny inquired indignantly. Vinnie looked ashamed. He should have told Sonny about Patrice's overture of goodwill, but knowing how Sonny would react, he'd decided not to.

Patrice's attention returned to Sonny. "Sid called me today. He sounded very distressed."

"Sid is an idiot," Sonny said contemptuously, straightening his cuffs.

"He seems to think there is a double agent among your associates," Patrice went on.

Sonny sniffed. "There was that broad from the ballet, but she's no longer a problem."

"He seemed to think there was another one," said Patrice, casting a shrewd look at Vinnie.

Internally, Vinnie panicked. He felt his palms go sweaty and prayed that if he blanched, no one would notice in this flickering, uneven light.

"Sid's been watching too many James Bond films," Sonny scoffed. "Double agent! If there's any double agent in my organization, his name is Sid Royce."

At that, Patrice looked at Sonny sharply, his smirk quickly replaced by a scowl.

Sonny responded with a serpentine grin. "But I was forgetting. Sid's on our side, isn't he?" he said smoothly.

"You repay my words of friendly warning with jokes, Salvatore. I just hope they do not come back to haunt you."

"Thanks, but between me, and Vinnie here, oh, and Sidney, of course, I think we keep a pretty thorough watch. Your concern is touching, but I'm sure you have better things to worry about."

"'The price of freedom is eternal vigilance,'" Patrice quoted solemnly, standing up to go. "I hope, when the time comes, you will call on my assistance, and not rely on new friends" (he stared pointedly at Vinnie) "to save you. You can count on me, Sonny."

His royal edict apparently at an end, Patrice left through the vestry, his heavy companions trooping after him.

"Yeah," said Sonny after they'd gone, "I can count on you like I can count on the next Pope being Buddhist. Prick."

Sonny rose and headed up the aisle. "Come on, let's get outta here."

Vinnie let out the breath he'd been holding ever since he'd heard the words 'double agent'. He'd like to wring Royce's flabby little neck for that. But Sonny had stood up for him. Partly, he was sure, just to piss Pat off, but also because he genuinely trusted Vinnie. To know that Sonny had that much faith in him was satisfying, and also disturbing. He was a double agent, he was a threat to Sonny. And he was starting to wish he wasn't.

\-----

Vinnie had started the car and was backing onto the gravel road when Sonny laid a hand on his wrist.

"Let's take the back way, Vinnie. Go around the hill, right there." He released his hold and pointed the way. Vinnie drove on as instructed, over a rough, grassy patch, until they hit a dirt road that wound down between the trees at the back of the cemetery.

"This way?" Vinnie asked uncertainly, not liking the look of this passage, especially in the dark. He wondered nervously if Sonny had bought Patrice's warning after all. This would be the perfect spot to whack somebody, he noted grimly.

"Yeah. This takes us past where me and Angela Cipirilli spent the fourth of July one year, and--"

"You're not serious," Vinnie interrupted, exasperated. He stopped the car and hit the steering wheel. "You're making me drive through this deathtrap just so you can reminisce about getting into some girl's pants? Jeez, Sonny."

Sonny looked affronted. "Hey, they're my memories, okay? So shut up and drive. Besides, Pat doesn't know about this road. He never came up here much."

Vinnie mulled over that bit of news until he spotted the light in the rearview mirror.

"I thought you said Patrice didn't know about this road," he said.

Sonny shifted to look out the back window. He watched for a few seconds, while Vinnie wondered whether to drive on and try to outrun them or stay here and shoot it out.

"Oh shit!" Sonny blurted out, hitting the seat back with his palm. "It's a cop!" He tapped Vinnie's shoulder. "Here, quick. Kiss me."

"Huh?" Vinnie's attention was on the car coming up on them, and he was sure Sonny hadn't said what it sounded like he said.

"Kiss me!" Sonny repeated frantically, finally grabbing Vinnie by the neck and pulling him into a kiss. Vinnie's brain was just beginning to take stock of this new, entirely unexpected development when he heard a tap on the window behind him. He started to pull away and face it, but Sonny's grip on him tightened. Sonny's lips were pressed to his and he realized with a lightning-hot jolt that he enjoyed the sensation.

"Move along," a muffled voice said into the car from behind the window. There were some flashes of lights, then Sonny let go of him. Vinnie pulled away rather more slowly than he should have and stared at Sonny. Sonny straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, then his eyes met Vinnie's.

"What? What?" he said defensively. "You want them to find Sonny Steelgrave and Vinnie Terranova sitting up here in a cemetery, armed to the teeth? You wanna get your ass hauled to jail again?"

It was ridiculous. Sonny had actually kissed him to avoid facing a couple of cops. Quick thinking, Vinnie had to admit. He shook his head, smiling, and started to drive on.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Ten seconds later, he could no longer contain himself. He burst into laughter.

"Hey," Sonny cut in. "I just saved us from a night in the cages and some fancy lawyer's fee. Stop laughing."

Vinnie caught his eye, trying in vain to suppress his giggles, and Sonny started in, too. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill and the main road, they'd gotten themselves under control.

"Ah, man," Sonny said, leaning back into the seat, catching his breath. "That was a close one."

Vinnie had another giggling fit. "Hey, I just thought of something. What if that cop hadn't moved on? Can't you just see the headlines? 'Steelgrave and Terranova caught in lovers lane.'" That earned him another roar of laughter, with Sonny wiping his eyes.

"Stop it," he said between gasps. "You've got my side hurting here. It's not even all that funny."

The giggle escaped Vinnie's throat before he even had a chance to stop it. "Sorry, Sonny." To keep from laughing, he concentrated on the road, and driving, and after a while the butterflies in his stomach had vanished, and his pulse had slowed to normal.

Sonny was right. It wasn't all that funny. He'd been laughing away his nervousness. That kiss had opened up his imagination, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face whatever his imagination presented to him.

They were just reaching the George Washington Bridge when Sonny said, "You know, you're a good kisser. Not as good as Rachel Rosenstein, but not bad."

Vinnie's eyes shot over to the passenger seat. There was an unholy gleam in Sonny's eyes, and he smiled broadly. Vinnie lost it again, and had to slow the car before he laughed them both into the Hudson River. He was glad Sonny was making jokes about it. Maybe that could stop him from thinking about the kiss too seriously.

By the time they reached Atlantic City, Vinnie was exhausted -- by the evening, by driving, by everything. His eyelids began to droop, but Sonny's voice startled him awake.

"You know, I had fun tonight," he said. "Despite Pat-the- Cat's little intrusion into our evening, it was nice. Your mamma, mm, what a cook."

Vinnie pulled the car into the Royal Diamond garage and parked it.

"Hey, Vinnie," Sonny said, suddenly grabbing Vinnie's hand from the steering wheel. "If I marry you, will I get a homecooked meal like that every night?"

No laughter left, Vinnie merely shook his head. Sonny laughed happily, then stepped out of the car and headed for the hotel door. Vinnie sat there, smiling as he watched Sonny's familiar bustling, hurried walk until he disappeared behind the door, then took stock of the evening. A delicious meal at home -- and yet again his mother surprised him with her ability to hold her own against Steelgrave. A surrealistic venture into one of Patrice's lairs -- and he had to find out just what Sid Royce was playing at. Did he really suspect Vinnie or was he merely casting around for a scapegoat to cover his own tracks? And, finally, that mad, ridiculous kiss in the cemetery where Sonny seemed to have seduced half the female population of the Bronx in his youth -- and feeling sadness, wonderment, guilt, and bewildering happiness, Vinnie admitted to himself that he wanted to taste that kiss again. In fact he almost ached to feel Sonny's arms clutching him again.

He relived that moment in his mind, a bittersweet memory, incredibly funny and horribly serious at the same time. This was an unforeseen development, a complication he definitely did not need, and he had no idea how to stop the inevitable -- how to stop himself from falling in love with Sonny Steelgrave.

"Oh God," he sighed.


	2. Another Truth to Hide

The casual good mornings of the secretaries were interrupted by a black form scurrying past.

"Vinnie. Come into my office for a sec. I got something I want you to do for me."

Vinnie followed the form without haste -- Sonny Steelgrave seemed to have enough haste for the both of them.

"You got a job for me?" Vinnie asked as he stepped into the office.

"Yeah, but first, tell me, what do you think of the new suit?"

Sonny swiveled around for him, overflowing with confidence and good humor. Vinnie admired him for just a tad too long, and just a tad too closely.

"Sonny, you look like a million bucks."

Sonny smiled coolly and walked to his desk. "I know that, but I was asking about the suit."

Vinnie sat down opposite him. "It's all right. Special occasion?"

"I got a hot date tonight. Have you noticed Cindee, the new girl at Reception?"

Vinnie whistled softly. "The blonde? Yeah, I've noticed her. She's a knockout."

"Ah, too bad, Terranova. I got there first." Sonny clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, then leaned forward, the humor leaving his expression.

"Leo from the casino has been skimming some of the take from the crap tables. I want you to have a little talk with him."

"Sure, Sonny."

"Nothing too heavy. Just shake him up a bit. Hell, I expect guys to try and pocket some loose change now and then, but Leo's been getting greedy." Sonny sat back and straightened his tie. "He's been taking advantage of my generosity, and I don't appreciate that."

Vinnie nodded and started to get up. "I'll take care of it."

"Oh, and one more thing. Sid thinks you're a cop."

Vinnie froze, but managed to sit back down slowly, and not fall to the floor. "A cop?" he repeated, trying to sound both indignant and amused.

"He keeps dropping these hints."

Vinnie met Sonny's calm gaze. "And if you believed him, I wouldn't be sitting here right now, so why tell me?"

Sonny gave a little shrug. "I figured if someone's been bad- mouthing you, you should know about it. I wanted to find out what you think."

"I think Sid would say anything to get you to run to Patrice."

Sonny grinned at that. "That's what I like about you, Vinnie -- we think alike."

Vinnie left the office unsure of several things. He was unsure about what to do about Royce. On the one hand, better the devil you know, and Vinnie was confident that Sonny wouldn't believe Royce over him. On the other hand, someone like Patrice was very likely to believe Royce. Patrice had already hinted that Vinnie was a so-called "double agent" at that candlelit meeting in the church the other night.

The other night. That was another thing Vinnie was unsure of. Try as he might, he could not get that ridiculous kiss out of his head. He longed for another one -- and more. He'd been attracted to other men before, but he thought 18 months of playing wedding night with the Boy Scouts in the Pen had rid him of those particular inclinations. But what really surprised, and bothered, him was the depth of feeling he had for Sonny. The rush he got when Sonny entered the room, the sheer intoxication of joking with Sonny, working with him, earning his trust and respect. And this was the man he had to bring down.

This was the last thing Vinnie was unsure about. If he couldn't snap out of this ... infatuation, or whatever the hell it was ... and fast, he would not be able to complete the job. Though he argued with himself on this one, he knew with a dreadful certainty that bringing Steelgrave to justice was becoming more of a burden and less of a proud career goal. And that sickened him.

Steelgrave was a kingpin, a player. He represented everything Vinnie gladly swore to destroy. He was ruthless. He was a murderer. There were moments when Vinnie was convinced he was completely mad. But he was also a man, and that was where the problems began. Steelgrave -- the symbolic monster of organized crime -- was easy to loathe. Sonny -- the man with the charismatic personality, the quick humor, the impatience of a child and, sometimes, the vulnerabilities -- was impossible to hate. And, as Vinnie was rapidly and uncomfortably discovering, all too possible to love.

There was a way out. There was always a way out, and its name was Frank McPike. All he had to do was tell McPike he was attracted to Sonny, and he'd be out of Atlantic City so fast he'd forget he'd ever been there. OCB would chalk it up to new field agent jitters, he'd get sent into another job -- hopefully one with more clear-cut villains -- and soon Sonny Steelgrave would be just a vague memory. He had a ticket back to the land of black-and-white, rational thinking, so why was he reluctant to use it? Vinnie never answered that one.

\-----

"Sid thinks there's a double agent. What do you say to that?"

Sonny was questioning him, standing so close Vinnie felt trapped. He shivered and cleared his throat.

"Sid doesn't know what he's talking about."

Sonny smiled. "I think you're right, Vinnie." His voice was a purr. Why was he standing so close? "There's no agent here, right? Besides you, of course. You're the only Fed here, aren't you, Vinnie?"

And before Vinnie could deny it, Sonny had grabbed his neck and was kissing him -- a luxurious, sensuous, openmouthed kiss that had Vinnie tingling with electricity. He had just noticed Sonny's breath tasted a little of garlic when he felt the knife blade on his spine.

Vinnie's eyes popped open and he bolted upright, breathing quickly, deeply.

"Jeez," said a voice in the dark. "You're a light sleeper, ain't ya."

Vinnie switched on the light. A tremor shook through his body all the way to his fingertips. Sonny, sitting at the foot of the bed and watching him, noticed it. He placed a hand on Vinnie's ankle.

"Hey, relax. It's me."

Vinnie took a deep breath to shake off the dream and come back to reality.

"I thought you had a hot date tonight," he said, glancing at the clock.

"I did." Sonny fell silent and moved his hand away. He still had on the new suit, but the tie was missing and he'd undone the collar. Vinnie was about to ask what happened when Sonny got up and paced around a bit. He stopped at the foot of the bed.

"Do I look old to you?"

The question was so unexpected and so preposterous that Vinnie didn't have a reply. Sonny didn't wait for one, anyway. He was pacing again.

"I was out with this girl, and oh man, she is one fine lady. And we're having a good time, you know. And then she's talking to me, and I didn't have a fucking clue what she was talking about."

Vinnie stared at him in disbelief. "You're telling me you left your date because she was a boring conversationalist?"

Sonny sighed impatiently. "No, man. I'm saying I just didn't understand her world. And this chick was hot. Playing up to me, I think she wants a promotion or something, and I just felt like this dirty old man. I don't know, maybe I oughta settle down."

"Jesus, stop it, Sonny, before I call the old folks home and book you a private room," Vinnie said irritably, interested in Sonny's confidences, but too tired to handle such insecurities at 2:09 in the morning. "You're not old, okay? That what you wanna hear?"

Sonny sat down on the bed again. He smiled -- a little sadly, Vinnie thought. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just in a funny mood, that's all."

Vinnie settled against the headboard, expecting Sonny to leave.

"So, how'd it go with Leo?" Sonny asked abruptly.

"Fine." This couldn't wait until morning? Tired as he was, Vinnie wasn't too eager to return to sleep, not after that last dream, and he was intrigued by Sonny's apparent reluctance to leave. He elaborated, "Leo understands the rules. I think he just got itchy fingers. He said he's sorry. He knows how lucky he is here."

"Good, good," Sonny said distractedly.

He stood up, started to go, then paused in the doorway. "Look, I'm sorry I got you up and all, but will you take a walk with me? I can't shake this mood. Don't know what's the matter with me. I just wanna take a little walk, clear my head, okay?"

"Sure, Sonny." Vinnie was wide awake now, worried by this introspective mood of Sonny's. He was up and dressed in ten minutes, meeting Sonny in the hallway. Sonny led the way, leaving the hotel and heading for the boardwalk.

Sonny leaned over the railing, the cold Atlantic breeze blowing in his face. He grimaced as he looked out over the beach below. Vinnie watched him, leaning against the railing with his back to the wind.

"All my life, all I've wanted is to be at the top. I'm not even there yet and already it's not like I expected." Sonny smiled self-consciously and glanced at Vinnie. "I bet you're surprised to hear that, huh? You guys think it's easy to be Sonny Steelgrave. Sometimes it's easier just to be Sonny." He frowned and shook his head. "Ah, I don't know what I'm saying. C'mon, let's go back. It's freezing out here."

Vinnie tried to think of something to say as they walked back to the Royal Diamond. He understood better than Sonny could imagine. He understood how reality could really fuck up your expectations, and he definitely understood how much easier it was to be Vinnie than to be Agent Terranova.

"I know what you mean," he said slowly, "and if it's any consolation, I've never thought it was easy to be you."

Sonny stopped and graced him with a genuinely warm smile. "Yeah. I know that." He clapped Vinnie on the arm.

After that, Sonny's mood seemed to brighten. They entered the hotel and headed for the elevators.

"I forgot to thank you for the other night," Sonny said, and there was a slightly mischievous look in his eyes.

"The other night?"

"Yeah, you know, in the cemetery."

Vinnie felt himself blush. He impatiently pushed the elevator call button again to give himself something else to do other than remember that kiss.

Sonny laughed. "It's okay, I mean it. A lot of guys would have pulled some kind of macho shit and got us thrown into the can. I liked that you did what I asked you to. I liked that you trusted me to know what I was doing."

Vinnie shrugged. "Hey, you're the boss," he said lightly, hoping Sonny would drop the subject. The elevator arrived and they stepped in, Vinnie moving to the back. He watched Sonny, thinking back on that moment, admiring Sonny in his elegant black suit. Sonny sidled up to him and looked him over.

"I dunno, Vinnie. One of these days I might have to marry you. Make an honest man outta ya."

Despite his unease with this topic, Vinnie decided to play along with the joke. He grinned broadly and let his eyes wander down Sonny's body. "Oh, Sonny. Don't tempt me."

A faint frown crossed Sonny's face. He glanced sidelong at Vinnie. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Whatever."

Five seconds later: "'Don't tempt me?'" His voice rising slightly. "What the fuck did you mean by that?"

Vinnie instinctively edged away. "Nothing. It was just a joke."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sonny was staring at the elevator buttons, still frowning, seemingly lost in thought. As the elevator slowed near the penthouse, Sonny looked up, his eyes fixed on Vinnie. The doors opened and Vinnie started to get out. Sonny stepped in front of him, jabbing the 'Door Close' button. He hit the button for the office level and the elevator moved on.

"I think you meant something by what you said," Sonny accused. "You've been acting different since that night. What's the matter?"

Vinnie looked away. "Nothing. I told you, it was just a joke." Damn, why in the hell had he made that stupid joke?

The elevator stopped again. As the doors slid open, Vinnie looked to Sonny, who indicated with a short nod that Vinnie should get out. His heart pounding, Vinnie stepped out and headed for Sonny's office. Sonny came up behind him, circling close before striding over to the window. He looked out at the glittering night city below.

"Know what I think?" he said quietly. "I think you enjoyed our little kiss. Maybe enjoyed it too much."

Ice crept up Vinnie's spine. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. _Oh God_, he thought, _Sonny's gonna kill me 'cause he thinks I'm queer_. He considered denying the charge, but what was the point? Sonny seemed to know already, and something like this... He wasn't sure he could lie his way out of this one.

He swallowed hard. "Maybe I did."

He couldn't see Sonny's face, only the outline of the man against the huge window and bright lights of Atlantic City. Sonny's stance seemed to relax a little. Sonny left the window and went to the bar. He pulled out a glass and started to pour himself a brandy.

"Want one?" he offered.

Vinnie, too confused to speak, shook his head. Sonny observed him and gave him a half smile.

"Hey, it's okay," he assured him. "It doesn't bother me."

The ice melted. "It doesn't?" Vinnie asked incredulously.

Sonny took a drink of brandy and savored it. "I'm a man of the world, Vinnie. It takes more than that to shock me. A helluva lot more." He crossed in front of the bar. "That kind of stuff's not exactly my bag, I admit."

No, of course, it wouldn't be, Vinnie thought, disappointed. Then he cursed himself for thinking, even for a split second, that he and Sonny could share more than that kiss.

Sonny watched him for a minute. "I'm a bit surprised, that's all," he continued. "It's not really something I expected."

Vinnie looked around helplessly. He wanted to be anywhere but here, at this moment, having this conversation.

"It's not something I expected, either," he said truthfully. Sonny glanced at him quickly, then turned back to his glass. He was drinking his second brandy. He didn't seem bothered now. Just preoccupied, or tired. Vinnie sensed it was time to leave. The night had taken a bizarre twist neither of them had anticipated.

"Uh, I think I'll go back to bed now, okay?" He backed away, moving toward the door. Sonny just nodded. The last thing he saw before the door shut was Sonny again framed by the window, looking out over the city.

\-----

The next day Vinnie was down at the docks all day. Sonny was off seeing Marvin Ketchell about legal matters. The day after, Sonny kept Vinnie busy on what were decidedly trivial "business concerns" -- things that one of the drivers could've handled. The next morning, Vinnie was summoned to a meeting with Sonny and Royce. Sid was his usual unpleasant self, complaining about lower takes in the casino, advising against business projects Sonny had in mind. Sonny listened to him with cool contempt, occasionally conceding the smaller points, always standing firm on the larger ones. He did not ask for Vinnie's opinion; he did not even exchange a glance or two with him during Sid's more obvious ploys. In fact, he did not look at him at all. Vinnie began to wonder why he'd even been asked here.

The meeting concluded, Sid departed and Sonny riveted his attention to a file on the desk.

"I want you to go over to Philly. We got some stuff Mahoney's been waiting for."

Vinnie stayed in his chair, steadily watching Sonny.

"What is this?" he asked at last. "Yesterday you send me out on errands any one of your no-neck slaves coulda handled, and today you tell me to do a milk run to Philly? I'm not a driver anymore."

Sonny glanced up sharply. "You are what I say you are, and you do what I tell you."

Vinnie settled comfortably in his chair and crossed his arms. "Save the Mussolini routine for one of your secretaries, Sonny. Tell me where I screwed up and I'll unscrew it."

An impatient, don't-fuck-with-me look briefly crossed Sonny's face. "You didn't screw up, now just get outta here, Terranova, and do what I tell you." Sonny busied himself with papers.

Then Vinnie knew. The errands yesterday had been to keep him out of sight. The Philadelphia run today for the same reason. Sonny was keeping him at arm's length. It had to be because of their little chat the other evening. Damn it, Sonny'd brought up the topic in the first place.

Vinnie was annoyed, but decided against arguing about it. A drive to Philly would give him a chance to scope out Mahoney's operations for the OCB, anyway. He got up and left slowly, giving Sonny every opportunity to change his mind. Sonny appeared to be engrossed in the newspaper.

\-----

Vinnie returned from Philadelphia late that evening. Mahoney had insisted on wining and dining him and what should have been a straight drop-off had turned into a marathon of stories about the old neighborhood. Though there was something reassuring hearing about Sonny's boyhood antics, there was nothing reassuring hearing about how a 9-year-old Pat-the-Cat had slashed the face of another kid for being a squealer, and Vinnie was all too happy to leave as soon as his chance came.

He had just settled into his sofa with a cold beer when he heard the elevator doors swoosh open and Sonny appeared in the entrance way. He did not look pleased. He went straight to the bar and fixed himself a drink.

"Where the fuck have you been all day, huh? I sent you to Philly, not to fuckin' Mars."

"Mahoney invited me to stay for dinner. Then he wouldn't shut up about the old days. I got out of there as soon as I could."

Sonny finished his drink and watched Vinnie. "Mahoney, huh?"

"Yeah," Vinnie said angrily. "Jeez, Sonny, call him and find out for yourself if you don't believe me."

Vinnie got up from the sofa and stalked over to the window. He absently stared out at the lights for a few minutes, then pounded his fist against the wall.

"What is it with you? I can't catch a break from you lately." When he turned around, Sonny had poured himself another drink. Sonny lifted the glass, avoiding Vinnie's gaze.

"Look, Sonny," Vinnie said softly, "if it's about that ... if it's about the other night, don't worry. I can handle it. I'm not all that comfortable with this myself, you know."

Sonny's eyes fixed on his, round, intense.

"Not comfortable with what, Vinnie? What's gonna make you comfortable again, huh? Tell me that. Better yet, tell me what's gonna make me comfortable again."

Vinnie frowned and approached the bar. "I thought you said this didn't bother you. 'I'm a man of the world,' you said."

Sonny glanced over guiltily, then seemed to find something fascinating in his glass. "Yeah, well," he said, hitching his shoulders. "Maybe that's the problem."

Confused, Vinnie shook his head and rested his arms on the bar. He watched the ice tongs until he could feel Sonny's stare boring into him. He looked up and Sonny looked away.

"Sonny?" he whispered, a horde of bewildering thoughts crowding into his head at once: maybe it wasn't Vinnie Sonny was worried about, maybe it was himself; maybe it was absolute madness to fall into this trap; maybe Sonny would be the hottest lover he'd ever know; maybe McPike would toss him into the nearest loony bin and throw away the key if he ever found out.

Sonny swirled an ice cube around in his glass. "I don't know, Vinnie," he sighed. "I just don't know."

Vinnie straightened up, putting more distance between them over the bar. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip, wanting to say something to put an end to the crazy ideas running through his mind. Sonny set down his glass and came around the bar. Without a word, he grabbed Vinnie's neck -- firmly but not violently -- with one hand, pulled him closer and kissed him. A deliciously passionate, openmouthed kiss -- just like the dream. Vinnie noticed a hint of garlic in Sonny's breath ... just like the dream ... He stiffened, breaking contact.

Sonny let his hand rest on Vinnie's shoulder. "What's the matter? Isn't this what you want?"

Vinnie shut his eyes tightly. A nervous jitter passed through his spine.

"Yeah, it is," he said, dry-mouthed and barely audible. Sonny's thumb brushed over his throat. Vinnie forced himself to open his eyes, to meet that intent, soul-searing stare he was sure would consume him. "But it's not what you want."

Sonny's fingertips grazed the edge of his jaw. "You don't know what I want," he said simply, watching the movement of his fingers. "I don't know what I want. I've been feeling restless lately. Maybe this is why."

Vinnie stood perfectly still, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, silently trying to talk himself out of this. This was the line he couldn't cross. Once he stepped over, there'd be no turning back.

"Vinnie," Sonny said, smiling softly. "I'm startin' to feel rejected here."

It was the smile that did it. He would always blame that smile. Self-conscious but confident, killing any underlying threat the words might have conveyed. Vinnie drew Sonny closer and attacked that smile with a ravenous kiss.

\-----

It might have been the longest night of the year, time was moving so slowly. Every second relished. Every kiss dragged out to the last breath. Vinnie let Sonny make the choices, he'd been doing that all along anyway. He watched Sonny shrug out of his jacket and unknot his tie, and let Sonny be the one to move to the bedroom first, stood back while Sonny hesitated, approached to help Sonny out of his shirt.

It was only an hour since that line had been broken; it seemed like forever. There were too many uncertainties, and to rush seemed pointless anyway. Vinnie sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his jeans proving to be increasingly constricting. Sonny sat between his legs, back against Vinnie's chest, his skin burning through his undershirt, his suit trousers probably only slightly less constricting. Vinnie held him just tight enough to have their bodies touch. Sonny's hands worked along his thighs. Vinnie began to kiss the nape of Sonny's neck, letting his lips glide over the smooth, warm flesh. Sonny leaned back, into the kiss, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Vinnie slid his hands beneath Sonny's undershirt, stretched his fingers out and flattened his palms against the taut skin. When his fingers found a nipple, he pinched it hard, causing Sonny to suck in another deep breath.

Vinnie had never made love to anyone like this before -- by prolonging each movement way beyond a tease. He had no idea where they were heading, how far Sonny would go, and that only added to the sexual rush.

He smoothed his palms up Sonny's ribcage and began to coax him out of his undershirt. Sonny raised his arms and pulled it over his head, then melted back into Vinnie's embrace. Vinnie hands rubbed his bare shoulders, mimicking a massage, while Sonny stroked his inner thighs. Vinnie was so near the edge now his jeans were proving painful. If Sonny didn't do something soon ...

But Sonny must've known. He let one hand linger at the join of leg to pelvic bone, rubbing a little more vigorously until, at last, thankfully, he moved away and reached for Vinnie's zipper. Undoing it was a tightrope walk. Vinnie instinctively held his breath as Sonny very carefully, necessarily slowly tugged the zipper down, his expression intent, his eyes dulled over with want. Vinnie breathed a sigh of relief at his release. He was so incredibly hard now, so incredibly turned on, he hoped that whatever happened would happen soon. He yanked off his jeans -- his first hurried action of the evening -- and flung them across the room. Then he slid back over the bed and waited, wondering if Sonny would back out now.

He needn't have worried. Sonny had risen, was watching him through lust-narrowed eyes. With achingly slow and deliberate movements he undid his trousers, stepped out of them, picked them up, folded them neatly, and laid them out on the chair. He was teasing, and Vinnie was going crazy. He watched him, fascinated, eyes continuously straying to the very plain, soft white cotton boxer shorts that contrasted brilliantly with the tan skin.

Sonny joined him on the bed, sliding over next to him. He ran the back of his hand over Vinnie's leg, side, shoulder. Vinnie grabbed his wrist and guided his hand into his underwear. Sonny's hand obligingly brushed over to his cock, but he was still teasing. One finger was drawn up its length. One finger touched its moistened tip. Vinnie sank into the bed, sweat beading on his brow, biting his tongue to keep from shouting in exasperation. Then his cock was pressed between Sonny's thumb and forefinger and he was so close to coming he thought he'd die first and before he realized it Sonny had grasped his cock and he came. And it ripped through him, tore his senses to shreds, and he was unaware of anything else but the deluge of relief for what seemed like ten billion years.

He blinked, caught his breath, swallowed, shivered as the air began to cool his sweat- and semen-drenched skin. He glanced over. Sonny's eyes had never left his. He tried to marshal his thoughts. He had to express to Sonny just how incredible that had been. He had to make Sonny come. And he wasn't sure he could match whatever that had been. Sonny had teased him to the edge, then pushed him over it. He doubted he had the skill for such controlled maneuvering.

Sonny was on his side, head propped up on one arm, other hand flat against Vinnie's heart.

"Well?" he whispered.

Vinnie managed a brief smile. "Better than well." There was a triumphant gleam in Sonny's eyes in response. Vinnie reached out with the back of his hand and let his knuckles nuzzle against the hard bulge in Sonny's white boxers. Sonny rolled onto his back. Vinnie followed, sending his hands to Sonny's hips, fingers straying into the boxers. He noted Sonny's dark eyes watching him, sparkling with curiosity and desire. Vinnie stretched back, away and down, and planted a warm, wet kiss on Sonny's belly just below the navel. He felt Sonny's cock lurch -- he would do this, and Sonny knew he would do this. He hadn't sucked a man off since his second week in stir, and then the situation wasn't of his own making, but he'd do this for Sonny. Wanted to do this for Sonny.

He tried to go as slowly as Sonny had, peeling away the boxer shorts inch-by-inch, pausing to admire the view of Sonny's cock swollen, red, and alive with anticipation. He teased it by skimming his lips over it. Sonny clutched his shoulders in reaction. His tongue washed over it, then he breathed on it, just a short, hot breath. Sonny's fingers were digging into his flesh and he could feel Sonny's pulse racing. Then he took the cock into his mouth and sucked him hard and fast. His tongue lashed at it, stinging from the incredible heat, the salty moisture, the urgent throbbing. Sonny thrust into his throat and he fought off the gagging sensation as hot, slick solidity filled his mouth. And it was over too soon. Sonny came with a violent shudder and Vinnie gulped down the heavy bitterness.

Sonny released his shoulder. Vinnie rose up, hovered over him. "Well?" he asked.

Sonny's eyes were slits of black, his lips bent into a smug smile. "What do you think?"

\-----

Vinnie lay on his back, one arm hooked above his head, staring at the stripes of cloudy daylight on the ceiling. He'd crossed the line -- he'd gotten close to Sonny in every single sense of the word. And what made it all the worse, it didn't feel wrong. What felt wrong was lying to Sonny, letting him go on believing in his loyalty when all along he was working on the biggest betrayal Sonny would probably ever know. He shouldn't have done it, he should've escaped when he still had the chance, now he was stuck. Oh, he still had his ticket-out, all right -- McPike -- but leave Sonny now? 'Oh, gee, thanks for everything, Sonny, but I think I'll be going now...' He might as well flash his OCB card at him and get his suicide over quickly. Besides, whispered the dark side of his soul, if you leave now you'll never get a chance to make love to Sonny again.

He rolled onto his side and was faced with tan shoulders wrapped in light blue sheet, Sonny's head buried into the pillow. One tan knee peeked out from the sheet. Vinnie moved to cover it, then lingered there, bent over Sonny's body. He gently kissed the back of Sonny's neck and let his finger idly trace out the design of the tattoo on Sonny's upper arm. His mind kept flashing back to last night. It struck him how incongruous it was -- impatient, cut-to-the-chase Sonny Steelgrave managing to turn a quick little shag into an all-night affair. For a second he wondered if Sonny was like that with his women but quickly decided he'd rather not know, one way or the other.

"Vinnie."

Sonny's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Sonny didn't sound like he'd just woken up. He must have been awake all this time... Thinking, perhaps regretting... Vinnie moved away.

With a weary sigh, Sonny rolled onto his back and blinked up at the ceiling. He rested one hand on his chest, scratched his arm, then said, "This is weird."

Vinnie looked over at him, then back at the ceiling. _Shit_, he thought, _I've just backed myself into a corner for this guy and now he's gonna decide it was all a mistake_. Though one part of him gleefully announced that if this were so it would become much easier to bring Sonny down, another part felt disappointed, rejected, and pissed off.

Sonny turned onto his side. "This is weird, man," he repeated, "but I'm not gonna think about it, because it kinda feels good, y'know."

Vinnie met his eyes and was nearly melted by the tenderness, vulnerability, but unmistakable mastery he saw. Sonny bent down and kissed him, a long kiss that sent both their bodies singing with renewed want.

"Oh, Vinnie," Sonny breathed into his ear. "I don't know what it is you do to me, but whatever it is, I want some more."

Vinnie slung his arm around Sonny's waist and brought him down on top of him, locking him in another kiss. They kissed and caressed, legs intertwined, skin warming, cocks burgeoning in arousal, until Sonny tried to pull away.

"Order us some breakfast."

Vinnie's hold on Sonny tightened. "Maybe I'm not hungry," he challenged.

Sonny's eyes narrowed. "And maybe I'm starving," he drawled. Then he was all over Vinnie again, lips greedily consuming him. He broke away and sat up.

"C'mon, order that breakfast. I got stuff I gotta do today. Besides," he added, lazily running a finger along Vinnie's rib-cage, "there's always later."

Vinnie sighed in frustration. "Okay."

While he phoned room service, with his peripheral vision he watched Sonny slip from the bed, hunt around for and retrieve his underwear, and disappear from the bedroom. And for the first time that morning it hit him how difficult this would be. Sonny left the room and already he was anxious for him to come back. He closed his eyes and imagined sitting across from Sonny in his office, as if nothing had happened. This was going to be rough: another role to act, another truth to hide.

\-----

By the time Sonny emerged from the bathroom, showered and shaven, looking faintly frumpy in yesterday's underclothes, Vinnie had wrapped himself up in a sheet and was sitting on the sofa, inspecting the breakfast plates. He'd ordered enough food for three starving elephants, not knowing what Sonny might want. Sonny breezed by, stepping into the bedroom to throw on his trousers, then breezed back and stopped to take in the view of Vinnie poking at an egg with a fork.

"Gee, Terranova, you look like shit," Sonny said pleasantly. "Fred Flintstone beard, suitcases under your eyes. You look like you didn't get much sleep last night."

Ha, ha, very funny, Vinnie was thinking. He gave Sonny a mock-glare and returned to poking the egg. Sonny swept up behind him, fingers playing along his shoulders. His fingertips brushed the short hairs on the back of Vinnie's neck.

"We gotta make sure you get your beauty sleep. So I've been thinking, tonight we could have an early evening. Have a little dinner, see what we want for dessert..."

The word 'tonight' set an alarm bell ringing. Vinnie hunched forward and rubbed his eyes. "Ah, fuck. I got a date tonight, Sonny. I totally forgot." Sure, it was a 'date' with Frank, but it was nevertheless a previous, and unbreakable, engagement.

Sonny strolled over to the chair opposite and sat down. He didn't seem bothered.

"A date, huh?" He gave Vinnie a knowing smile. "Think you'll get lucky?"

Under the circumstances, the suggestion of Vinnie 'getting lucky' with Frank McPike was perversely hilarious. Vinnie couldn't guess what Sonny would want to hear, so he countered, "What do you think?"

Sonny leaned forward and picked up a piece of toast. "I think, you come back here early, you'll get real lucky," he purred, his eyes broadcasting the X-rated thoughts he was having. A surge of desire trickled through Vinnie's veins and he nervously licked his lips.

"I think I'll be taking my shower now," he said quickly, rising from the sofa. My cold shower, he amended silently.

\-----

Fifteen minutes later Vinnie was stepping into a clean pair of jeans when he felt a soft breath on his neck. He stood still and two hands pulled him close and plunged into the front of his jeans.

"You come back here early tonight, huh?" Sonny murmured, softly biting an earlobe.

"I'll try." Vinnie tried to sound casual but the thought of another night wrapped up in Sonny was almost too much, was almost making him dizzy.

Sonny's hands slithered over his crotch. "Good." He languorously kissed Vinnie's neck. "Ohh," he sighed. "I want you to do things to me, I don't even know what they are yet."

That sounded too promising to be true. Vinnie's heart jumped and his cock gave a resonant response. He swallowed hard.

"I'll do anything for you, Sonny," he said. He felt Sonny's lips curl into a smile against his shoulder.

"I know you will."


	3. The Trouble with Sonny

Vinnie leaned against the elevator wall and rubbed his eyes. His meeting with McPike had not gone well. Something about Frank's manner had put Vinnie on the defensive almost immediately and the conversation had not flowed smoothly. Frank had been reservedly pleased with the information on Mahoney Vinnie had collected -- but as Frank pointedly reminded him, Mahoney wasn't the target.

Despite the gut-level defense mechanism that kicked in whenever Sonny was mentioned, Vinnie wanted to bring Steelgrave in. That had been his goal, and he couldn't abandon it just because he and Sonny had shared a bed last night. Or so he told himself, while he secretly thrived on the memories of how perfect touching Sonny, sleeping with Sonny had been.

Maybe McPike was right -- that he was in danger of losing his perspective. The trouble with Sonny was that perspective didn't get you very far. It was as if he were seeing Sonny through a kaleidoscope -- turn the mirror and the glint in the conqueror's eye became an inviting wink; the hungry smile of greed became an easy-going laugh.

The elevator doors opened and Vinnie walked into his darkened suite, loosening his tie, heading for the bar. He reached for a glass and stopped. Something had sent his senses into overdrive. He stared across the room. Sofa, chairs, lamp, television were all black silhouettes against the window. One of the silhouettes said softly, "How was your date?"

Vinnie let out a breath. "Christ, Sonny. What are you trying to do? Scare me to death?"

Sonny switched on a lamp. He was dressed in a navy blue suit and an improbably colored tie.

Vinnie concentrated on pouring two drinks. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting."

Despite Sonny's unmistakable enthusiasm and open proposition that morning, Vinnie didn't know what to expect. He figured Sonny would have changed his mind in the interim.

"I just got in," Sonny told him. "I took Heidi from Accounting out."

Vinnie took a drink over to Sonny and sat on the sofa, keeping his eyes on anything but Steelgrave.

"So, how was your date?" Sonny asked again. "Did you get lucky?"

Vinnie glanced over. Sonny graced him with a knowing smile.

"I'm back this early. What do you think?"

Sonny set his glass aside. "That doesn't mean anything--"

"Trust me, in this case, it does," Vinnie interrupted, wanting to drop the subject of his "date" with Frank McPike. "You must have better things to do than stop by to find out how my evening went."

Sonny frowned a little. "You want me to leave?"

Vinnie wanted to say yes. He wanted to master his feelings for Steelgrave. Following his inclinations could only lead into some dark, uncharted territory, making his relationship with Steelgrave all the more dangerous. Ultimately, however, that was part of the attraction.

Restless, he paced back to the bar, toying with his half- empty glass. He finished his drink, started to pour another but set the bottle aside and looked over at Sonny, who sat quietly in lamp light and shadows, watching him.

"Want something?" Vinnie asked, a little edgy, not liking the silence. Sonny rose and brought his glass to the bar. He tapped it, frowning, eyes lowered. Vinnie reached for the bottle.

Sonny struck fast, pushing him into the wall and pinning his arms. The kiss came hard and swift. Sonny pressed up against him, forcing his lips apart, practically biting him. After an initial resistance, Vinnie relaxed and welcomed the kiss, sucking on Sonny's tongue until Sonny pulled away with a low moan.

"You make me so horny, I feel like I'm sixteen again," he whispered, his hot breath tickling Vinnie's ear. One hand picked at Vinnie's tie. "I've been thinking about this all day."

Now that he was holding Sonny again, Vinnie admitted to himself that he, too, had thought of little else. He pulled Sonny's tie loose and untucked his shirttails, plucking at the buttons. He ran a hand over Sonny's undershirt and pinched a nipple through the fabric. Sonny bit his neck lightly in retaliation and drew back. His eyes darted to the bedroom and back. Vinnie wanted him so badly he was tempted to throw Sonny to the floor rather than waste 30 seconds moving to the bedroom.

Sonny took hold of Vinnie's trousers, slipping his fingers behind the fly, and tugged at them, steering Vinnie toward the bedroom door. Vinnie stumbled backwards, so turned on by the insistent desire in Sonny's eyes he didn't care where he ended up. Sonny tugged on his trousers again and Vinnie stopped. Body brushing against him, Sonny pushed him into the bed and descended upon him, wrapping his legs around him and filling his mouth with another predatory kiss.

Vinnie struggled to get Sonny out of his jacket and shirt, and started for his trousers when Sonny grabbed his hands and held them down against the bed. Vinnie was trapped beneath him, burning up in his suit as Sonny licked his neck and nibbled on his ear. He felt Sonny's erection pressed up next to his through the layers of clothes and tried squirming against it so Sonny would release him.

"Mmmmmm," Sonny murmured. His hands tightened their grip on Vinnie's wrists.

"Sonny, please," Vinnie whispered tightly, anxious to get out of his clothes, get Sonny out of his.

"I wanna give you a blow job," Sonny purred. Vinnie stopped struggling, consumed by an atomic heat. Feeling the sudden, urgent motion of Vinnie's cock, Sonny gave an evil chuckle. "Oh yeah, I think you'd like that," he whispered. His eyes glittered and he smiled mischievously. "I want your cock down my throat. I want you to come in my mouth."

Vinnie wriggled desperately. "Sonny, stop it," he said hoarsely. "I'll come in my pants." Sonny simply chuckled again and blew into his ear. "This is an $800 suit!" Vinnie protested.

Sonny lifted his head and looked at him. "So?" he asked, eyebrow twitching.

The pause in the teasing gave Vinnie the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He pulled his hands free and unzipped his trousers. Sonny sat astride him, stripping out of his undershirt. Vinnie shrugged out of his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and reached for Sonny, letting his fingers dance over Sonny's fly. Sonny grabbed his hand and shoved it between his legs.

While Sonny unzipped his fly, Vinnie squeezed his balls and pressed his palm against the base of his cock. Sonny started peeling away Vinnie's trousers and undershorts, brushing them down far enough so Vinnie could kick them off. Vinnie's hands moved into Sonny's pants and gave his cock an inviting tug. Sonny slid off him just long enough to remove the rest of his clothes, then he was back again, sitting over Vinnie. He stretched out, blanketing Vinnie, and rested on his arms. He thrust his cock against Vinnie's and Vinnie arched his head back. Sonny gave his throat a slow, succulent kiss.

Vinnie clutched Sonny closer, holding onto his hips as Sonny ground against him, his cock hard, heavy, warm. Hands melded to flesh, gasping, panting, soaked with perspiration, moving with haphazard rhythm, Sonny's body shook as he climaxed, liquid heat rushing forth as he buried his face into Vinnie's shoulder. Vinnie's hold tightened as he locked his legs around Sonny's pressed his cock, slick with Sonny's come, against Sonny's belly, rubbing furiously, and ejaculated. Breathing deeply, Sonny shifted experimentally, knee resting against the slippery surface of Vinnie's thigh, one hand sliding over Vinnie's midriff, sticky with semen.

"This is disgusting," he said, watching his hand. Vinnie blinked and focused on Sonny's face, laughing softly at his look of distaste. Sonny raised an eyebrow. He brought his hand up and cupped Vinnie's face with it. Vinnie winced.

"Yuck."

Sonny gave him an evil smile and lifted his chin to kiss him. Vinnie parted his lips and Sonny shoved his thumb between them, lips pressed to Vinnie's. Vinnie bit down hard in protest. Sonny pulled away, laughing. He pat Vinnie's cheek.

"We're pretty good together," he said, rising. Vinnie watched him pad out of the room, noticing for the first time Sonny was still wearing his watch.

Alone on the bed, Vinnie stared up at the ceiling, wishing he didn't feel so great. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be attracted to Steelgrave, and even though he was, he wasn't supposed to act on it, and even though he did, he wasn't supposed to enjoy it this much.

Sonny returned, cleansed, and stopped in the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb and his eyes raked over Vinnie's body.

"Mmpf. Now that's a sight," he remarked. With difficulty, Vinnie rose and sat on the edge of the bed, watching while Sonny started dressing. When Sonny stepped into his trousers, it finally hit him that Sonny meant to leave.

"You're going?"

Sonny paused, fastening his fly. "Yeah. Sure. Why not?" he answered, giving a little shrug.

Vinnie didn't know what to say. He didn't want Sonny to leave, but the thought of Sonny staying scared him to death.

"Yeah, okay," he said, mumbling. Sonny had his shirt on now. He picked up his jacket and shoes and started for the door. Vinnie willed himself to stay quiet as Sonny left.

\-----

A week later, and Vinnie was cursing himself for ever stepping into this trap. A week of Sonny popping up on his doorstep for a quickie and beating a hasty retreat before Vinnie could even catch his breath. Every night Vinnie told himself that this one would be the last, that he wasn't going to jeopardize his code of ethics just to become Sonny Steelgrave's toy-boy on the side. And every morning he was greeted by Sonny's broad smile and winks and knew he was doomed. He loved Sonny. He loved him so thoroughly, so deeply, he was shocked and dismayed at himself -- and pissed off at Sonny for obviously not feeling the same.

The argument over Joey Romanowski gave him an excuse to harden his heart against Sonny -- although he shouldn't have needed one. It apparently gave Sonny an excuse, too, because his unannounced visits ceased, although his manner towards Vinnie didn't change. Vinnie almost wished it had. This closeness without the physical relationship exasperated and frustrated him. He chose to keep as much distance from Steelgrave as he could, keeping his attention on the two corrupt cops Sonny had on his payroll.

The preparations to bring Vinnie into 'la famiglia' came as an unwelcome distraction. Sonny made his opinion of the ceremony quite clear. He thought the whole thing was an outdated bit of voodoo, but he was not prepared to cross Don Baglia, so the ceremony went on as planned. Vinnie relaxed, sharing Sonny's private jokes, unable to resist Sonny's magnetic attraction.

Then the evening exploded into fragments: Sonny's hand clutching an envelope of damning photographs, Joey Romanowski holding a gun at Sonny, Frank shooting down Joey, a Patrice smirk, "It's not my good side." Another night drenched in blood, and another night Vinnie wished he'd never met Sonny Steelgrave, had never seen that there was more to the man than greed and death.

That night he went to bed with Joey's pained and ruined voice echoing in his ears, but when he closed his eyes he saw Sonny's sly smile and suggestive wink.

\-----

Five nights later Vinnie was awakened in bed by a breath on his shoulder. As he slowly let go of sleep, he was aware of a presence, a heat, next to him.

"Sonny? Is that you?" he asked, feeling a little silly speaking to the dark and still not quite sure this wasn't a dream.

A hand reached between his legs and slid into his underwear.

"You'd better hope it's me."

Vinnie relaxed. He spent a few seconds wondering if he was relieved or disturbed by this impromptu visit, while Sonny's hand pulled life into his cock. Relaxing further, letting himself be lulled by Sonny's seduction, he closed his eyes -- and saw Joey Romanowski in a hospital bed.

Moving away from Sonny's grasp, he said irritably, "What do you want?"

Sonny curled up around him. He was naked, very warm, and the touch of his skin felt wonderful.

"We never celebrated," Sonny replied, drawing a finger over Vinnie's throat. "You getting made," he elaborated. "I brought champagne."

Vinnie did not want to celebrate that bad memory. While he considered what to say to Sonny, Sonny kissed his neck and ran his hands over Vinnie's thighs. Vinnie squirmed, trying to decide which would be worse: give in or pretend like he didn't want to.

His body was giving in already, intoxicated by Sonny's caresses. Clutching Sonny's neck, he pulled him into a deep, long kiss. Sonny tugged at his underwear, fingers teasing his cock. Letting go, Vinnie pulled out of the kiss and sat up.

"No. You can't do this."

"Do what?" Sonny asked, peeling Vinnie's undershorts past his ankles.

"You can't just drop in like this anytime you want to. What is it with you anyway? For the past week and a half it's like I don't even exist."

Sonny lay back and sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that. But this thing with you... I don't know, it's going so fast. My head's spinning, man. I see you, I want to touch you. Like all I can think about is getting you into bed. It's not what I'm used to."

Vinnie glanced over. Sonny was staring up at the ceiling, quiet, thoughtful. Vinnie lay back down, clasping his hands behind his head.

"Tell me about it. I don't normally sleep with my bosses, y'know."

Sonny ran a hand over his face. "This has been one strange fucking year. I lose my brother. Everywhere I look someone's waiting for me to fall. I got Pat-the-Cat breathing down my neck... He sends me that pencil-neck geek Royce... I find out I'm a fag... I dunno, Vinnie. Is this what they call a mid-life crisis?"

His tone was light, but Vinnie could tell he was serious. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around Sonny and tell him everything would be all right, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't make that lie sound believable.

"I feel like this is all my fault," he confessed. Sonny shifted to look at him.

"Hey, I'm not blaming you." He softly touched Vinnie's cheek. "In fact, I'm not sure how I'd handle all this without you. I need you, Vinnie."

Vinnie stared into his eyes, drawn in by the stark tenderness they revealed. He took Sonny's hand in his and held it loosely, and kissed Sonny sweetly. Sonny responded by burying both hands in Vinnie's hair and deepening the kiss, weaving their bodies together. As they melted into one another, Vinnie reflected that it hadn't been this slow and sensual since their first night. This wasn't just sex for a quick release -- this was making love.

The tip of Sonny's tongue was exploring Vinnie's ear. "Let's do this all night," he murmured.

"All night?" Vinnie asked, a little doubtful but thrilled by the prospect. Sonny quietly chuckled.

"Yeah. If you can last that long."

\-----

Vinnie woke up just in time to see the sun rise over the Atlantic. He got up, threw on a T-shirt and sweatpants and wandered from the bedroom, leaving Sonny sprawled peacefully across the bed, asleep.

The daylight illuminated everything with startling clarity. The sharp white outline of the bar was broken up by a black shape, a champagne bottle. Vinnie picked it up, smiling at the sentiment, set it down again and went over to the window. Far below he could see the city coming to life -- a few specks moving on the sidewalk, a couple of trucks and a bus moving up the street. For a moment he wished he were down there with them, wished he'd never even heard of Sonny Steelgrave, much less fall in love with him.

He should not have let Sonny stay last night. He should not have let Sonny seduce him so easily, so unerringly. He'd known this would be a mistake from the start, that there'd be consequences. He thought he could live with them; now he wasn't so sure.

And the trouble with Sonny was that despite his open enthusiasm for their relationship, Vinnie still couldn't be certain where he stood with him. Sometimes it seemed like this was just a walk on the wild side for Sonny, and Vinnie was his willing plaything. Other times, he caught glimpses of something deeper, the raw edge of need, a need to love and be loved. And worst of all, it didn't really matter to Vinnie what Sonny's motives were -- he wanted him so badly, he'd give in every time.

He'd made excuses for not walking away -- told himself he had to complete his job, that to try and leave was tantamount to suicide -- but the ugly truth was that he didn't want to leave Sonny. So he stayed, plowing on the only way he knew how, loving Sonny while plotting his downfall. Reveling in the trust Sonny had in him while guiltily using that trust to construct his betrayal.

It wasn't right, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't noble. It was love -- tantalizing, inexcusable, painful love -- and it was a nightmare.


	4. Welcome to Reality

Sonny switched off the light in Patrice's frozen tomb, ran his hands down one of the melting ice replicas of the Steelgrave empire, wiped his hands over his face.

He looked over at Vinnie, who was hunched over the long tale, head in hands, surrounded by bachelor party remnants.

"What's the matter, Vinnie? You don't look so happy."

Vinnie turned and stared at the man, still too shaken and numb to speak. Was the nightmare over yet? A night of indulging in almost every deadly sin, watching Sonny dig his own grave, helpless to stop it... Vinnie's mind had not stopped reeling. He felt like he was on a carousel, going ever faster, trapped, with no way to get off.

Sonny walked over to the wall phone and picked it up.

"Time for Paul and Scullisi to leave."

A few minutes later Aldo Baglia showed up. He offered Sonny his gun but Sonny shook his head in refusal. Aldo cleared off the top of the icy coffin, opened the closet door, and dragged Scullisi's body out. Sid Royce whimpered and crawled forward. Aldo kicked him back into the closet and locked the door. He stuffed Scullisi in with Patrice and wheeled them away. Sonny watched their departure with a smirk.

"I love it."

He came up behind Vinnie and pat his shoulder.

"Today is the start of a new life, Vinnie. I'm getting married, I finally got Patrice where I want him, I'm back on track again. Nothing can stop me."

His voice was filled with unshakable self-confidence and he was hopelessly pleased with himself. Vinnie felt physically ill. He rested his forehead against his fist and shook his head.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Vinnie turned on him. "You garroted Paul Patrice right in front of me! You killed a man in the middle of your bachelor party while a table full of people just sat by and watched!"

Sonny picked up a champagne bottle, tested it, found it empty, and tossed it aside.

"So? I didn't do anything to Pat he wasn't planning on doing to me."

Vinnie closed his eyes, shaking his head again. No arguing with logic like that -- the get-them-before-they-get-you logic of Sonny Steelgrave. Nothing left to say, then.

"I should've told you," Sonny was saying, sounding almost apologetic. "But I knew you'd be like this. If there's one thing I don't get about you, it's your reluctance to step on the people who get in your way."

Vinnie glared up at him. Sonny paced over to the wall.

"You got your own code, and that's fine. But it ain't mine. You woulda talked me out of icing Patrice and I had to do it. Besides, I was still pissed off that Aldo was making you out to be some kinda traitor and there was nothing I could say cause you weren't telling me anything."

Sonny wandered back to the table and leaned over it, eyes bright with power and conquest. "But now, that's all over, and you and me, we're gonna make New York forget there ever was a Patrice. We're gonna pull that garbage dump out of the slime Pat let build up and teach them a new name: Steelgrave."

Vinnie's eyes met Sonny's and for the first time he saw the man he told himself he should've seen all along. This was the Steelgrave monster -- this was the ruthless gangster he'd set out to destroy. And yet... and yet there was still something unmistakably Sonny about him. Even riding high on the thrill of his bloodlust, there was something charismatic, something attractive, something vulnerable.

Cursing himself for falling in love with such a man, Vinnie rose, grabbed a side serving table and pushed it into the corner. He piled another, smaller table on top, then a chair on top of that, and climbed up.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Sonny asked. "You're gonna break your neck doing that."

Vinnie stood on his toes, too intent to notice how the chair trembled unsteadily as he reached for the decorative grating. Swiping at it with his fingertips, he was just able to get a hold at the bottom. He yanked at it, pushed it, pulled at it, finally working it loose. The whole thing came tumbling down as Vinnie jumped to the floor. The video recorder crashed down with a muffled cracking sound. Vinnie reached for it, grabbed the videotape, broke its protective casing and started pulling out the tape inside, scraping and shredding it against the jagged edges.

Sonny watched him, stunned. "What the hell are you doing?"

Vinnie dropped the destroyed videotape onto the floor in front of him. "Saving you from the death penalty."

There was a moment frozen in time, an endless handful of seconds when the two men stared at each other, like all the clocks had stopped and there was no universe outside that room.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" Sonny said, voice low and raspy.

There was no need to confirm or deny it. Vinnie remained perfectly still, eyes leveled at Sonny. _Fuck you, Steelgrave_, a part of him was saying. _Fuck you for not being the man I expected you to be. Fuck you for making me forget I'm a cop_. But another part of him was screaming with guilt: _He trusted you. He protected you. He loved you_.

"A cop," Sonny repeated, voice acquiring an edge. "A cop!"

And with a flash of movement he had overturned the table at Vinnie and was vaulting over it, lunging for Vinnie's neck. Vinnie's fist reached his jaw and Sonny staggered two steps back, but immediately bounded forward and knocked him on the chin. Before Vinnie had a chance to return the blow Sonny's hands were on his neck, thumbs pressing in on his throat.

"I'm gonna kill you, man. I'm gonna kill you."

Sonny's eyes were bright, wild. Vinnie started choking for air. He brought his hands up, into Sonny's face, and pushed him away. He pushed him harder than he thought, for Sonny reeled back, stumbling against the upset table.

Vinnie headed after him and Sonny rushed him, hurtling them both into the wall. Vinnie landed on top of the fallen video camera and felt it jab into his back. Sonny's boxing instincts had set in and he was pummeling Vinnie's face with an expert's rhythm. Willing all his strength to his right arm Vinnie socked him on the cheekbone. Sonny's head flew back on contact, and Vinnie used the opportunity to kick him away. Sonny landed on his back, on top of an array of broken dishes and cut flowers. He didn't immediately stir, and Vinnie sat still, storing up energy for the next bout.

"Nobody move!"

Frank McPike and what looked like every cop in the tri-state area swarmed in through the double doors, OCB IDs flashing, rifles all coming to rest in a circle around Sonny and Vinnie. Relief and a strange sensation of emptiness shook through Vinnie. This was it. They had Steelgrave. It was over.

Frank stared down at them, frown deepening as he caught sight of the destroyed videotape. He nudged it with the toe of his shoe. The full weight of what he'd done -- destroying evidence, betraying the law to save Sonny Steelgrave -- struck Vinnie. He stared up at Frank, eyes wide and guilty, waiting for an outburst which never came.

The muffled cries and kicks of Sid Royce coming from the closet diverted Frank's attention. The door was opened and Sid tumbled forth, jaw working like a fish gulping for oxygen. He started to say something, but Frank cut in, "Lock him up, too," and returned his gaze to Vinnie.

A uniform had pulled Sonny to his feet, was handcuffing him. Sonny's eyes met Vinnie's, dark, brooding, angry, hating. Vinnie, standing up, looked away, looked to Frank, wincing at his damning stare. Nowhere to turn... He felt an icy breeze swirl around him, numbing his senses. His wrists were pulled back and handcuffed, Frank mirandized him, he was shoved forward, through the double doors of the banquet room. It was over.

But in the back of his mind, a voice asked, _Will it ever be over?_

\-----

The smell of bad coffee made Vinnie open his eyes. Frank set the paper cup on the table next to him. Vinnie scanned the drab, soundproof interrogation room. The guard who'd been standing by the door for as long as he could remember was gone. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus his thoughts, trying to forget the last look Sonny had given him, trying to recall how long he'd been here, what day it was.

"Royce says Sonny killed Patrice. Aldo Baglia gunned down Scullisi and Sonny strangled Patrice."

Vinnie turned the paper cup around in his fingers, not meeting Frank's gaze, not saying a word, not knowing what to say. Frank leaned forward.

"Why'd you do it? The videotape, why?"

Hiding guilt with anger, Vinnie snapped, "What makes you so sure it was me?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" It wasn't a question.

Still unable to form a reply, as if admitting the truth would destroy him, Vinnie folded his arms over his chest and stared obstinately at the table. Frank watched him for a while, then opened a file.

"No one's talking, of course, except Royce. Without the bodies, well... Royce isn't exactly a model witness." Frank sighed wearily. "We need corroboration. We needed that tape. What happened, Vince? Talk to me."

Vinnie shifted, toyed with the paper cup. "Sid will say anything to get at Sonny," he pointed out. "Patrice and Royce wanted to bring him down almost as much as we did."

Frank shook his head. "Okay. So if Royce is lying, where's Patrice?"

Vinnie swallowed hard. "I don't know where Patrice is."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Listen, kid, you better wake up and wake up fast. I've got Steelgrave, Mahoney, Baglia, and friends like Manza and Boca locked up out there, and all we've got on them is racketeering, fraud, illegal parking and whatever else I can think up. Confirm Sid's story and we're talking about murder."

Vinnie sat quietly, feeling the walls press in on him. His head hurt, his ears were ringing, and all he could see when he closed his eyes was Sonny garroting Patrice. He hunched over the table and rested his chin on his fists.

"Leave me alone, Frank. You got Steelgrave. You got more than Steelgrave. It's over, okay?"

Frank glared at him, then stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

\-----

By the time he reached Steelgrave's interrogation room, Frank's fury had subsided to a calm, biting anger. He entered the room and regarded the disheveled Steelgrave like the aberration of humanity he undoubtedly was. Sonny looked up at him, eyes cold and confident, jaw set. Frank sat down at the table across from him.

"Where's Patrice's body?"

Sonny's eyebrows flickered upward. "Oh, is Pat dead? Remind me to go dance on his grave when all this is over."

Frank's stare burned into him but met only cool resistance. "I have a witness who says you killed him."

Sonny's eyes were hard, black. "Better and better. I'm surprised at you, McPike -- listening to fairy tales."

Frank leaned forward. "Don't fuck with me, Steelgrave. I'm not in the mood," he growled.

"And I wasn't in the mood to get stabbed in the back by my 'good pal' Vinnie," Sonny said angrily. "Is that who your witness is, huh? That liar, that Judas? Then you better look around some more, McPike, cause you ain't gonna pin nothing on me. Terranova's been lying so long, he doesn't know what truth is." Sonny's eyes flared. "I trusted him with my life, with my soul. I gave him everything and he took it and twisted it into something obscene, something he could use against me. And you," Sonny said, pointing at Frank, "You better get your boy's head examined. You don't know what he's done to me, what he's said to me... And I believed it." He slammed his palms down on the table. "I believed it!"

He sprang from the chair, knocking it over, stalked over to the wall, hit it once with his fist and stalked back. Reclaiming his composure he tugged on his shirttails, picked up the chair and sat down.

"It's my word against Terranova's, and I'm not the one who's been lying everyday for a year, yeah?"

Frank looked into the eyes of the monster -- and blinked. Sonny's eyes were focused on something that wasn't there. Unguarded, they revealed a deep pain, not the pain of a criminal despot who's just lost his ill-gotten empire, but the pain of a man who'd just lost his best friend. Frank blinked, not wanting to see this, not wanting to look into Sonny Steelgrave's soul, not wanting to believe Sonny Steelgrave even had a soul. But he couldn't blink away that look, so he lowered his eyes.

He rose, aware of Sonny's eyes following him as he left the room. Shutting the door behind him, he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses, trying to massage away the migraine he felt coming, when he saw Elias down the hall, followed closely by Steelgrave's lawyer.

"Shit," he muttered, turning his back on them and walking away, ignoring Elias's call.

\-----

It shouldn't have been this easy to see Sonny. He should have been locked up miles away, but instead he was here. In a soundproof interrogation room watched by one inexperienced guard -- while the police, the FBI, and a horde of lawyers argued outside.

The guard shouldn't have stepped aside so readily as Vinnie flashed his OCB card, but he did. He stepped aside and opened the door, and there was Sonny, sitting at a table with his hands balled up into fists in front of him.

Vinnie shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Sonny didn't look up, but the way his shoulders stiffened belied his awareness of Vinnie's presence. Vinnie looked down at the floor. Why had he come here? Hadn't he done enough damage? Hadn't he fucked up as much as he possibly could? He didn't know what to say to Sonny -- just felt that something had to be said.

He wanted Sonny to make the first move, then told himself that was wishful thinking. Sonny wasn't about to say a word. Then Sonny spoke.

"Get out of here."

His voice was low, raspy, sounded exactly like it had back at the banquet room, when he'd found out the truth. Vinnie hated that voice. That was the voice of the Sonny he wished he'd never met.

Vinnie came forward, paused, waiting in vain for Sonny to look at him, finally sat down at the table. He didn't want to apologize. He didn't want to sound like he was sorry for doing his job. There were things he regretted about his job, things he hated about it, but he wasn't going to apologize for it.

Though deep down it hurt more than he could bear, he knew Sonny belonged behind bars, and Vinnie couldn't let himself lament being the one to put him there. He felt sorry for Sonny. Felt sorry for himself. Felt sorry that Sonny wasn't the man Vinnie wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry," he said, not wanting to, but unable to avoid saying it.

Sonny looked up at him, eyes dark and sunken, still burning with rage. The bruises, the growth of beard, the stained shirt -- he looked awful. Vinnie didn't want to see him like this, but he couldn't look away.

"You're sorry," Sonny snorted. "Well, that's just great, Vinnie. That makes everything okay." He looked away and shook his head. "I'm going to prison and _you're_ sorry."

Vinnie fed off his anger. He couldn't help it. It was better than feeling guilty, than feeling helpless.

Sonny looked at him again, frowning. He gave Vinnie a calculating stare. "Y'know, what I can't work out is how you can be a cop, huh? _How?_ You're not that stupid, and you never struck me as the kind of guy who gets his kicks ruining other people's lives. How can you do it? What's in it for you?"

The anger was eating into Vinnie now, and to him it felt like relief. He gave Sonny a defiant glare.

"I don't expect you to understand," he replied coldly. "I'm a cop because I believe in right and wrong. I believe in justice--"

"And you work for the Feds?" Sonny interrupted. "Gee, Vinnie, maybe you _are_ that stupid."

For an instant Vinnie felt like punching him, and he knew that was the reaction Sonny was baiting him for. But that kind of temptation was always the easiest to ignore.

"Like I said, I don't expect you to understand. The difference between you and me is that I care about other people, and how their lives are ruined by people like you."

Sonny's expression blackened and he remained silent for several seconds. When he spoke, he sounded casual, but there was a cold undercurrent in his voice. "So, tell me about the lives I've ruined, Vinnie. No, please. I want to know."

"Like I can't answer that?" Vinnie scoffed. "Let's start with drugs. You let drug shipments land at your docks, the drugs go out to the distribution networks, out to the streets. Kids die."

"Names, Vinnie. Give me names," Sonny pressed. "You're the one who cares about everybody else, right? So give me the names of the people whose lives I, personally, have ruined. Go ahead. I want to know."

Vinnie was silent for a moment, furious at Sonny for pushing him to this.

"Joey Romanowski," he said at last. "There's a name for you. You want more? Those two cops who were in your pocket. Karen Malloy--"

"That was Royce," Sonny put in.

"You would've done the same, but okay, have it your way. What do you expect me to say, Sonny? That your business actions might have hurt thousands indirectly, but that's okay because you never hurt anyone directly? That's bullshit, even if it were true. But it isn't true. Your hands are bloody, too."

Sonny glowered at him. "I can't believe I'm hearing this," he said disgustedly. "You've taken everything from me, and for what? You don't even know what this is all about."

"I haven't taken anything from you," Vinnie countered. "You lost it. You lost it through your greed, your dealings in death, your stupid belief that the universe revolves around you and your puny little empire."

Sonny sat back, shook his head. "They teach you to rationalize real well, don't they?" he said easily, then suddenly his voice turned hard and cutting. "You can say a lot of things about me but I never lied to you, Vinnie."

Vinnie froze. He couldn't answer that.

"Yeah, you can explain everything away," Sonny continued. "Saint Vincenzo and mean old Sonny. Good and evil. But what it boils down to is: you lied to me. You betrayed me. That's what your job is: lies, betrayal. You better think about that, Vinnie, cause if you think this is about drugs and death, you're wrong."

Vinnie's jaw clenched tightly and he gave Sonny the iciest, most damning glare he could. He stood up to go. This had been a monumental mistake. He never should have come here. What could he hope to accomplish? In Sonny's mind, he was a liar, a Judas, and nothing would ever change that.

As he reached the door he heard Sonny say quietly, "You know, what really bothers me is that I liked you. I liked what I saw in you. And now I'll never know if what I saw was real or just part of the act."

Vinnie turned around, wanted to hide from Sonny's bleak, hurt expression. Sonny watched him for a few moments, blinked slowly. Vinnie leaned against the door, unable to look away. Staring into Sonny's anger, loneliness, pain, he wanted to reach out to him. Damn it, as crazy as it seemed, at that moment he loved Sonny more than ever.

"Tell me," Sonny said, staring down at his hands. "Sleeping with me. Was that part of the act, too?"

Vinnie felt the smothering weight of guilt and sorrow bear down on him. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to keep the tears from forming.

"No," he answered, voice raw, barely above a whisper.

Sonny wouldn't meet his gaze. He inclined his head slightly, jaw set, frowning, but eyes blank, empty. Vinnie watched him, desperate to hold him, to reassure him... With what? More lies?

"Goodbye Sonny," he said. He opened the door, taking one last glance at Sonny, who sat in proud profile, unwilling to look at him, unwilling to acknowledge his departure. Vinnie stepped into the hallway and shut the door.

\-----

The room was an office. Not a cell and not an interrogation room. There was a window, dusty but letting in light, the walls were painted an ugly yellow, and behind the desk was a bulletin board with Reagan's photo pinned next to an 8 x 10 of Al Capone. Vinnie slumped in the chair and Frank stood by the window, watching without interest the parking lot outside.

"We think Aldo Baglia skipped the country," he said. No reaction. He looked at Vinnie, then back out the window. "Without the bodies and without a corroborating witness... I don't know how we'll do on the murder charge. We'll put Steelgrave behind bars for as long as we can."

Vinnie's shoulders stiffened. He stared resolutely at the bulletin board.

"It's over, Vince," Frank said quietly, then hesitated. "You can take some time. In fact, Elias might insist on it. He's still foaming at the mouth about the videotape. Come on, Vince, it's _over_. Talk to me."

Vinnie looked at Frank out of the corners of his eyes, then went back to staring at Ronald Reagan.

"What do you want me to say, Frank? That I'm happy it's over? Elias is right. The case is a fuck-up. I'm a fuck-up."

Frank sighed and shook his head. "You're not a fuck-up. You did good. You delivered more than we could have expected when you first started. I know it hasn't been easy--"

Vinnie snorted.

"--I know you got close to him. I know how hard that is. Facing the man you've spent months getting to trust you and flashing him the badge: 'sorry, pal.' But what's important is that you did what's right."

"'What's right,' Frank?" Vinnie kicked his heel against the desk. "Thanks for the pep talk, but you don't know anything about it. You have no idea what it was like, okay?"

Vinnie shifted uncomfortably in the chair, folded his arms over his chest.

"Vince--"

"No, Frank," Vinnie cut in, voice rising. "Going in," he continued, quieter, "I thought I knew who I was dealing with. I thought I knew what it'd be like. It wasn't like I expected, Frank. _He_ wasn't like I expected.

"So then I thought I could handle it. I knew I was getting close to him but I thought I could take it. Frank, you don't know what it was like with him. It got so easy to overlook the bad, because there was so much good. There really was -- is -- and that's what scares me. After a while I'd look at Sonny and I didn't see the bad anymore. Only the good. And I thought, what if we're wrong? What if there really is only the good?"

Frank had moved to the desk. He sat down on the edge, watching Vinnie intently. Vinnie frowned, scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe.

"Is that what we have to do?" he asked suddenly. "Blind ourselves to the good so we only see what we want to see? And when we do that, how are we any better than they are, huh? Where's the balance in that? Where's the justice?" He paused. "I thought it'd be easy because I knew I was on the right side. It wasn't easy, and being on the right side didn't help one damn bit."

Frank pat his shoulder.

"Welcome to reality, kid," he said softly, with no trace of malice or sarcasm. Vinnie looked at him and realized that maybe he did know what it was like. Maybe Frank did understand, at least partly.

"I loved him," Vinnie confessed, eyes darting away from Frank's.

"I know you did."

Vinnie knew he should say more, tell him everything, but he couldn't bring himself to. Frank might have known he'd loved Sonny, but he didn't know he'd fallen in love with Sonny. He didn't know how close 'getting close to Sonny' had been.

And in a peculiar way, though the secret was a burden, Vinnie didn't feel a particular need to share it. Maybe later, when remembering what it was like to be kissed, and held, and made love to by Sonny didn't cut into him so sharply.

Maybe much, much later.

(The End)


End file.
